Lips of an Angel
by likecominghome
Summary: This isn't the first time Lydia has called Stiles in the middle of the night.


_It's really good to hear your voice._

The soft ringing of his phone wakes him and he groans as he rolls over and blindly feels the nightstand for the vibrating device. He fumbles with it until it sits firmly in his palm, but doesn't bother to check the caller identification before pressing the accept button and bringing it to his ear.

"Hello?" he says, his voice low and gravelly with sleep.

There's a pause, but he can hear someone breathing softly on the other end. He parts his lips to say something, but her voice echoes through the receiver before he has the chance.

"I'm sorry for calling so late."

He blinks and pauses because he recognizes the voice. To be entirely honest, he's not really surprised she called. It's happened quite frequently over the course of the past year. Apparently running into each other at that bar wasn't nearly as good for them as they'd thought.

It turns out that the lack of communication between them over the past few years had taken a toll on her as well. The first night she had called, he'd thought he was hallucinating. Now it was almost routine.

"Lydia…" he whispers, his tone not conveying a hint of surprise.

The shifting of the bed beside him seems to break him from a trance and he feels his heart rate spike as he realizes that Riley, his beautiful girlfriend of two years, could easily wake up and overhear this conversation.

Biting his bottom lip in guilt, he tosses back the covers and swings his legs to the floor. Riley has always been a heavy sleeper, so she doesn't notice the weight lifted from the bed and doesn't hear him lightly pad towards the balcony, grabbing a navy zip up hoodie along the way.

Cradling the phone in the crook of his neck, he expertly tugs one sleeve of the hoodie up his arm as he pushes open the balcony door and steps outside. The phone is switched to the other shoulder and the actions repeated with the other arm before he speaks again.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, keeping his voice low, despite the glass door and multitude of feet separating him from his girlfriend.

"I can't sleep," she sighs.

He drags his palm down his face in frustration. Just because this has become a habit, doesn't mean he's adapted or even ok with it. In fact, he knows it's wrong. Riley doesn't deserve this, and up until a year ago, he never in his wildest dreams would have imagined himself putting her in this position.

But this was Lydia. And he's always had a weakness for Lydia.

And apparently the same goes for her.

He doesn't know what to say, so of course his natural reaction is to be awkward. "Is he there?"

What an inappropriate question. It shouldn't even matter. But in some deep, twisted part of his brain, knowing that Lydia could be lying beside Jason Peters, golden boy of Los Angeles, but is instead talking clandestinely calling him in the middle of the night gives him some sort of sick pleasure.

"Yes," she breathes out. "He's asleep. I just…I needed to talk to you."

"Lyd," he winces. "We can't keep doing this. It isn't right."

"I know."

There's a pause. He knows that should be the end of it; he should hang up and they should return to their respective partners and pretend the past phone calls never occurred. But he also knows it's never been that simple.

They're Lydia and Stiles and whether or not they like it, they'll always be connected. A part of him will always wonder what she's doing and whether or not she's happy and he likes to think – no, if the past month has taught him anything, it's that he knows – that she feels the same.

What he's not sure of, is why this is so inescapable. It's like no matter how far apart they get, there's some sort of magnetic pull, forcing them back together. As much as he hates to admit it, despite the fact that he's perfectly happy with Riley, every once in a while, he'll find himself thinking about someone else.

But despite everything, he's not ready to hang up just yet.

"How was your day?" he asks, knowing full well that he's allowing himself to get pulled in.

"It was fine."

He rolls his eyes, tugging his fingers through his hair in frustration as he leans against the balcony railing. "Cut the crap, Lyd. You wouldn't be calling me if everything was fine."

"Yes, I would."

Her words are stated with such conviction that he momentarily loses all breathing capabilities before bringing his middle and pointer fingers to his temple to run away the oncoming of a guilt ridden headache. He finds her insistence that she would call without cause to be entirely frightening. And Stiles has faced some frightening situations in his time.

Perhaps it's because he knows, no matter the circumstances, he will always answer the phone. At the end of the day, the way she says his name, whispering it as though it's a sacred prayer, leaves him weak, yet makes him feel alive at the same time. It's a sensation he can't quite explain, but he's become addicted to the way it makes him feel.

"Stiles…"

There it is; his name, dropping from her lips, instantly making his entire body warm.

"It's just…" she sighs heavily, "He just doesn't understand. I know he tries to, but he doesn't."

The statement is vague, but he nods in comprehension, clearing his throat before responding. "I know. Sometimes she looks at me as though I'm insane."

It's not her fault, really, he thinks as he glances through the glass door at the woman asleep in his bed. If he were in her shoes, he'd probably think he was crazy, too. It was hard for anyone to believe the things he'd experienced as a teenager, to understand why he did the things he did, how he copes with that darkness.

Even after all these years, he still carries it with him; he still feels that heaviness he was warned about. It serves as a constant reminder of his past and sometimes it threatens to envelop him entirely, but then _she_ pulls him back.

Lydia.

His anchor. The emotional tether connecting him to the world.

Even in the years they weren't in contact, all he had to do was think about her, and that darkness would fade.

Sometimes, he would wake in the middle of the night and turn to face Riley and instead see alabaster skin and strawberry blonde hair fanned out on the pillow and feel completely content for a moment. Then he would come back to reality and that gut wrenching guilt would return to the pit of his stomach.

"I miss you, sometimes," he says, unintentionally revealing his thoughts.

He can tell she's smiling by the way she responds. "I miss you sometimes, too."

These words didn't make him feel guilty, because, to be entirely honest, there was nothing romantic about them. The fact of the matter is that the years Stiles and Lydia had spent together made them cohesive. They would always be a part of each other. But that didn't necessarily mean they needed to be together.

He'll be the first to admit that seeing Lydia with Jason that day had caused the pit of his stomach to twinge with jealousy. But it also made him happy, because for the first time, Lydia looked absolutely content with her life. The weight of the world wasn't crushing her shoulders and he'd really never seen her look more radiant.

Really, all Stiles wants in the world is for Lydia to be happy. And she is.

And so is he, actually. Riley is probably the best thing that could ever have happened to him and is exactly what he needs in his life. She makes him forget about that darkness entirely, making him once again believe in the good of the world.

Perhaps, he thinks as he listens to Lydia's slow, quiet breathing, the reason they're always drawn back to each other despite being happy with their own lives is the simple truth that no one else understands. Sure, they no longer live in a world where they constantly fear for the lives of the people they love, but that doesn't mean their past has been forgotten. Every once in a while, it's nice to speak with someone who has felt the darkness too.

"Look, Lyd," he sighs, squinting in the moonlight. "I gotta go. I've got to be up in a couple hours."

"Me too," she replies. "Thanks for picking up, Stiles. Sometimes it's just good to hear your voice."

She's said exactly what he's thinking and he smiles softly against the phone receiver. "Same here. And you know I'll always pick up if you need me."

"I know. Goodnight, Stiles."

"Goodnight, Lydia."

There's a click and she's gone. Shaking his head, he ends the call on his side and slides open the door, stepping inside the apartment and tossing the phone on the kitchen counter as he walks back towards the bed.

Riley turns towards him as he slips beneath the covers, her eyes slowly fluttering open. "Everything alright?"

Her voice is groggily and sleep laden and he nods once as he responds. "Yeah, everything's fine. Go back to sleep."

"Was that Lydia?"

The words should have made him freeze, but instead he lets out a sigh of relief at the lack of jealousy in her tone, which is actually filled with pure and innocent curiosity.

Lying had never been his forte, so the first time Lydia called, he had almost immediately spilled the secret to Riley the next morning. She'd been wary at first, even become upset when the calls continued, but eventually she'd come to the conclusion that she was being irrational because she trusted Stiles completely.

And she was right to do so, because despite the complexity of his relationship with Lydia, one thing Stiles will never be is a cheater. Loyalty is the strongest facet of his personality.

"Yeah," he responds quietly, lying flat on his back, his fingers drumming lightly atop his stomach. "She just couldn't sleep."

"I figured," she murmurs, shifting forward and laying her head on his chest.

He instinctively wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, staring down at her in amazement. "It doesn't bother you? The fact that she calls me in the middle of the night."

He already knows the answer, but it's nice to hear anyway.

"It used to," she admits, tracing patterns into the cotton covering his stomach. "But then I realized that it's not really in my control. What you and Lydia went through together…I'm never going to understand the bond you formed with her over those years. I decided it was best to accept that and focus on the relationship I have with you."

"You are…" he stares at her, wide eyed and unable to comprehend how he ended up with a such an understanding woman. "You're incredible."

"I know," she smirks, tilting her chin up to look at him. "How'd you get so lucky?"

"You tell me," he replies in utter awe.

Laughing lightly, she lays her head back on his chest and closes her eyes, the movements of her fingers coming to a stop.

"I will admit, though," she says slowly, her voice fading as she falls back asleep. "Part of me is glad Lydia seems to be getting over her sleeping problem."

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"She doesn't call nearly as often as she used to," Riley replies, her voice finally fading out completely.

He looks down to see she has drifted back to sleep and chews on his bottom lip as he contemplates her words, realizing she's right. After the first time, Lydia had called about three times a week. But now that he thinks about it, before tonight, the last time she called was nearly three weeks ago.

Maybe things are going back to normal. Maybe they're floating back to being distant. Either way, he thinks it's rather comforting to know that, no matter what, he always has someone to talk to.

Lydia will pick up the phone, no matter what time he calls. He knows, because he'll do exactly the same for her.

* * *

**I'm not really sure what the point of this one was, but I kind of like the way it turned out. Sorry it's not a real coupley Stydia story. Hope you like it anyway! **

**Requests or comments? stilesxlydialove . tumblr . com**


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